


Textbook Definition Blasphemy ft. The GazettE

by XiWritesThings



Category: Jrock, the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, Church Sex, F/M, Religion Kink, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiWritesThings/pseuds/XiWritesThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good girl Namie is excited to start playing piano during church services, but the job comes with an unexpected new perspective of her church's eccentric faith leaders. Having grown up attending said church, this shift in dynamic between them leaves her reeling. How will she handle the changes happening within her parish?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by a conversation with, and heavily assisted by, my friend DG. I'm only mildly sorry for this filth. For any fellow sinful heathens: please, enjoy!

Sunday morning. There’s a low rumbling of murmurs throughout the congregation, and the bustle of bags and Bibles and hymnal pages being turned. Mass would begin soon, and everyone was settling in. Hands being shaken, crosses being signed, the starchy rustle of everyone’s Sunday Best, and their dress shoes tapping across the stone floor. Oblivious to it all is a young woman on the left side of the sanctuary, where a piano has been squeezed into a darkened corner that barely holds it. Perched upon the bench seat with perfect posture, she was stretching her fingers, preparing herself to play. This was no ordinary mass for her; it was the very first one she’d be playing for! It had to be perfect.

Just last week, Bishop Kai had caught her sneaking back into the nave to play, after the congregation had worked its way outside into the sunshine. She’d been taking lessons since she was small, and for nearly as long, she’d noticed the piano tucked into the corner and partially hidden behind a curtain. For about the same amount of time, the church’s hymns were unaccompanied. Though she was meant to be here to worship, paying diligent attention to the Holy word, she had always found her attention drawn to that lonely piano, and dreaming of how beautiful mass could be if only she could play it.

It was in the middle of one of those daydreams that Bishop Kai had cleared his throat, nearly startling the girl out of her skin. Away from the piano she jumped, as if she’d been burned, the dissonant remnants of a chord lingering in the air. Apologizing profusely, she was unable to look up from the floor for the guilt of being caught. Bishop Kai was a handsome man, who looked elegant in the garb of his station, which usually was reason enough for her heart to flutter in his presence… but the addition of guilt made it certain.

“Be calm, child,” he had said. His voice was calm and steady, and so assuring that her own voice fizzled out. With a patient smile and a knowing look in his eye, he continued, “You are in no trouble.”

“I’m not?” finally she gained the courage to look up at him. She couldn’t believe it. Not in trouble?

He offers another gentle smile, “I’ve noticed your eye on this piano on more than one occasion.”

“Y-yes,” she ducks her head sheepishly again, “Mother has scolded me for being distracted. Worship is more important than the piano, she says.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Bishop Kai leaned towards her, a twinkle of something in his eye. She wants to shy away from his close proximity, but she manages to hold her ground, curiously meeting those kind, dark eyes, “Sometimes, playing your piano can be a form of worship. Did you know that?”

She shakes her head, and there is a rush of excitement through her veins. The Bishop approved of her playing! He actually disagreed with her mom!

“You play beautifully,” he says, stepping towards the piano, running his fingers along the glossy side. It was in dire need of dusting, but the quality was unmistakable.

“Thank you, Bishop.”

Thoughtfully, his fingers run back across it. She’s distracted by the way he seems to caress the wood. He looks back up at her, catching her attention again, “It would be a shame not to offer such beauty up to the Lord, don’t you agree?”

“S-sir?” Her heart seems to pound against her ribcage. Could he be insinuating…? He couldn’t be!

“Deacon Reita used to accompany us, but more and more lately, his interests are elsewhere. How would you like to play for the Church, Miss Namie?” he asks, and it’s as if a thousand butterflies are set free within her, and glowing smile bursts across her face.

“Oh, I’d love to!” she exclaims, and then claps her hands over her mouth for shouting. Quietly, she continues, “Do you mean it, Bishop Kai? Can I really?”

“Certainly,” he nods, his own smile broadening in response to her joy. His smile was as handsome as he was, and Namie is glad to see it, “Your music would truly be a blessing for our congregation. I fear it’s become a bit stiff for most of them! Needless to say, you’ll need to arrive early and stay late each Sunday, so you have time to prepare and time to discuss any other responsibilities you might take on. Aside from weekly mass, we might need you for events such as weddings and funerals. Is that agreeable?”

“Of course! Of course it is! Thank you, Bishop, thank you! I promise I’ll make you proud!” Namie’s hands are clasped together under her chin, and she’s radiating excitement.

Bishop Kai laughs quietly, and points upwards, “I’m not the one you should strive to impress, Miss Namie.”

“Oh!” she gasps, and makes the sign of the cross, “Forgive me. I got caught up in my excitement!”

“That’s alright, child.” Opening the top of the piano bench, the Bishop reveals the sheet music stored inside. Pulling out a book of hymnal songs, he hands it to her, “Please familiarize yourself with this at home. We would have you start next Sunday, if you are able.”

“I will! Oh, thank you again, Bishop! I’m so excited!” hugging the songbook to her chest, she allows the Bishop to lead her outside. They share one last, lingering smile before she dashes off to her waiting parents, calling an informal, “See you next week!” over her shoulder.

And that is what brings her to be sitting in front of the congregation now, nervously cracking her fingers and waiting for the cues Father Ruki had discussed with her this morning. An immediate hush falls over the group as Father Ruki emerges into the sanctuary to begin mass. Namie spends the rest of the service so nervously anticipating her cues, that the entire thing is a blur. She hardly realizes any of it is happening until it’s already over!

Collecting her sheet music and tidying her spot, she waits for the clergymen to finish consulting with the dissipating crowd. Making her way to the altar railing, Namie kneels and bows her head to pray. It was the least she could do after blanking out during mass! And, it gives her something to do other than wait anxiously for a review of her performance. Finishing her silent prayer with a whispered “amen,” she rises from the altar and turns to see Father Ruki observing her. He’s sitting in the first pew, one leg crossed over the other, cane resting against his outer thigh while the fingers on one hand trace up and down along it. How long had he been there? She hadn’t heard him enter!

“Having a good talk with the Lord?” He quips, the faintest trace of a smile coming to his lips. Him being amused by himself makes Namie laugh more than his question.

“Yes, Father,” she says, making her way to sit beside him. Still nervous about her performance, she barely perches on the edge of the seat, back straight as a rod. The priest sits up straighter beside her, clearing his throat. His arm brushes hers and she tenses.

“Did you enjoy the sermon?”

“Yes! Of course,” she answers too quickly. Father Ruki simply regards her with a calm expression. Her own becomes guilty, and then she ducks her head, “Well, no. I mean, I’m sure I would have… but, I’m afraid I missed it. I was too focused on playing. I’m sorry, Father.”

He lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, making her jump, “That’s alright, Miss Namie. It was your first time playing for the congregation; it’s understandable that you would feel so nervous.”

Namie gives him a disbelieving look, “It feels wrong to be so worried about myself that I completely ignore your sermon. It feels selfish.”

“Well, I can understand what led to that, and I do forgive you for it. I’m sure the Lord will forgive it also. Now the only thing is for you to forgive yourself,” he gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and a smile.

“I suppose.”

Sensing her remaining doubt, the priest uses the jewel-encrusted head of his cane to turn her head in his direction, “Really, Miss Namie, you needn’t worry. Your performance was awesome! The congregation was buzzing about it outside, everyone wondered where you were. And here you are, fretting. Do set yourself free of that, won’t you?”

She looks into his shadow-adorned eyes, drawn further and further into them the longer she dares to look. It’s not until she can feel his breath on her face that she realizes their close proximity and a blush races across her cheeks. He seems to notice. He says nothing. Hesitantly, she nods.

He pets his hand across her hair and smiles, lowering the cane, “Good girl.”

Still blushing fiercely, Namie ducks her head, and then glances up at him shyly, “So, you really think I played well?”

“Oh, yes,” he nods, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. He uses the head of the cane to tap her hand instead, “There’s real talent in these fingers.”

“O-oh, thank you, Father. Will I join you every week then?” The look Namie gives him is hopeful. She really enjoyed her church, with its rich, cathedral-esque stylings and eccentric faith leaders. One could scarcely refer to this place as boring, unlike her parent’s home, which was strictly plain and sterile by comparison. She’d be grateful for a reason to be surrounded by such beauty more often, be it the church itself or the men who run it.

She scolds herself for that thought, blush deepening slightly.

Like before, if he noticed, he says nothing of it. However, the corner of his lips twitches upwards, “Of course, dear girl. Perhaps more often, on occasion.”

Smiling shyly, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, “I’d love that.”

Father Ruki had been about to say something, but he’s cut off by the door being abruptly (and none-too-gently) opened. They both turn to see who was striding confidently up the aisle.

“Mr. Aoi!” Namie exclaims, jumping up from the pew.

“There’s our star!” the youth pastor calls back, arms spread wide in welcome. She had a much more casual relationship with him, since she’d practically grown up in his care. Scurrying towards him, she throws her arms around his neck in a hug and he picks her up, spinning her, “You did awesome today, Namie! I’m so proud of you!”

“Do you really think so?” she’s glowing with happiness when he puts her back on her feet. His approval meant just a bit more to her than the others. Any time he’d praise her, it left her giddy.

“Absolutely!” He grins, hands on her shoulders, “I can finally sit through mass again, now that it’s not just boring old Ruki.”

“Hey now,” Ruki calls.

Aoi shoots him a look over Namie’s shoulder but otherwise ignores him, “Seriously though, you were great. We should celebrate somehow.”

“Agreed,” another voice chimes in, and Namie turns around in time to watch Deacon Uruha up-end the communion chalice and drink the wine left in it. Eyes wide, she looks up at Aoi, unsure about his behavior.

“Is that proper?” she asks.

Apparently it was loud enough for the Deacon to hear. “Christ commanded his disciples to drink, did he not?” he shrugs, the hand holding the chalice out sideways almost flamboyantly.

“He is correct, in some sense,” Ruki sighs, as if he regrets to say it. Standing from the pew, he beckons Namie and Aoi to join them at the altar, “The remaining communion wine will be poured out as an offering, unless we do as Christ commands and drink.”

“Can’t let the blood of Christ go to waste, now can we?” Deacon Reita emerges from behind the curtained entrance to the store rooms with a stack of plastic cups. With skills more befitting of a bartender than a Deacon, he quickly lines six of them up.

“Where is Bishop Kai?” Uruha squints into the distance, searching around the room, “He should pour.”

“Let the man be, Deacon. He has enough responsibilities to worry about,” Father Ruki takes the flagon with the remaining wine, slapping Uruha’s hands away. With a lowly uttered prayer, he pours five of the six cups of wine. Uruha reaches to take one when he sets the empty flagon aside, and again Ruki slaps his hand away, glaring daggers this time. Holding his hands out, he says, “Let us join hands and pray.”

Namie obediently takes his hand, though she’s nervous her hands might be sweaty. She’s nervous about this entire situation, actually. It seemed abnormal. Mr. Aoi’s familiar hand closed around hers then, and she decided she couldn’t be bothered to care anymore, and lowered her head for prayer.

“Heavenly Father, we would like to express our thanks to you on this beautiful Sunday for your loving Grace which has shined so bountifully upon our parish. Last week it was discovered that you blessed one of our own with a talent for music, which she so kindly has agreed to share with us and our congregation, so that we may worship you joyously. Lord, thank you for blessing Miss Namie with this talent and opening her heart so that we all may share in this blessing with her. It is in celebration of your heavenly love that we drink, and we ask that your good grace continues to shine on us. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

There’s a chorus of “amen”s from the rest of them, and then Uruha snatches up his cup before Ruki has time to hit him again. He tips his cup in Namie’s direction, popping a communion wafer into his mouth, “Oi, you are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” she nods, accepting her cup when Father Ruki hands it to her.

That seemed to be the only issue the Deacon had with any of this, and with that confirmation, he up-ends this cup as well.

Again, Namie turns her wide, shocked eyes on Mr. Aoi. He shrugs a little, “He is what he is. Come, let’s drink!”

After playfully touching their cups together, they finally partake. Namie takes only a small mouthful, and when she looks up, she sees that Mr. Aoi had swallowed half the thing in one go. Shocked, she swallows her sip, and looks at the others. Apparently all of them were only marginally slower than Deacon Uruha at consuming their alcohol.

Overwhelmed by this side of her faith leaders that she’d never seen, she forces herself to take another drink, lest she make some comment about it and embarrass herself. If this was how much they let loose on day one, she was curious to see what became of them the longer she saw them outside of mass!


	2. Week 2

It was Namie’s second Sunday playing for the church, several hours after mass had wrapped up, and long since they’d finished up the post-mass meeting. Her performance had gone off without a hitch, and she’d actually been able to relax enough to pay attention this week. Currently, she was waiting on her parents to pick her up, which they had very quickly let her know was a giant trouble for them. Despite it only being week two, they had already encouraged her to step down from the position because they didn’t want to make the second trip to pick her up, or stay around after to wait. Of course, they wouldn’t help her pay for a car so she could drive herself, either! But there was another option Namie had considered…

“Hey, Mr. Aoi?” Namie addresses the youth pastor, her voice hesitant and uncertain. They’re sitting side by side on a little bench by the front door, enjoying the pleasant breeze. Aoi had been kind enough to wait with her, and while it surprised her that he had, she was grateful for the company.

“Just Aoi is fine, dear. You’re grown,” he smirks at her, something unusual dancing in his eyes, like he’d told a joke she wasn’t in on, “You’ve been out of my youth group for quite some time!”

“Oh! Uhm, okay,” Namie blushes. The shift of her faith leaders from elders to peers was still a little jarring for her, “I know, it’s just… Old habits die hard, I guess?”

“You’ll get used to it,” he bumps her with his shoulder, smirk transforming to a kind smile that makes her heart flutter. “Now, what was it you were going to say?”

“Well, I was wondering,” she starts, nerves gnawing at her stomach, making her ramble, “Um, it’s that, you have a car… and I know you pass my house on the way here, and my parents don’t really want to make the second trip out here every week. They think it’s too much trouble just for me to play piano, and I think they’d rather I just not play. And, y’know, I can’t afford a car to drive myself… and it’s too far to walk. So really, what I wanted to ask is—if you didn’t mind of course—was if maybe, if it wasn’t too much trouble: could I ride with you, to and from church?”

It was a huge favor to ask of him, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. The whole speech, she’d been preparing herself for rejection, so much so that her brain almost didn’t register his actual answer.

“Sure! It’d be nice to have company.”

“What?” she asks, giving a few rapid blinks. Her brain finally catches up to her a moment later, “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all!” Slinging his arm casually across the back of the bench, that smirk tugs at his lips again. He seems to lean in a bit towards her, and between that and his arm, she can feel the warmth radiating from him. The breeze shifts, and she catches a bit of his cologne. Again, her heart flutters as she meets his eyes, “I haven’t seen much of you since you grew out of youth group! I think it will be good to spend some time together.”

For a second time, Namie blushes; this one hits with full force, making her cheeks burn. She’s absolutely sure he’s noticed, because there’s a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “O-oh! I, uh, I think so too.”

For a good while, he doesn’t reply. Instead, his gaze roams across her face and he still has that damnable smirk on his. Namie’s heart is racing, unsure of what exactly is happening in this moment. It feels completely different to any interaction she’s had with him, making her feel a little lost and helpless, so it’s all she can do to gaze back at him with a doe-eyed look. Gently, he trails the backs of his fingers down her cheek and along her jaw, feather-light touches making her tremble. She’s absolutely certain he noticed that, too. Finally, he meets her eyes again, murmuring softly, “Good, I’m glad...”

It’s then that the sound of tires, crackling over accumulated gravel as they turn into the parking lot, draws her attention away from the handsome man before her and the conflicting feelings he was inspiring. Seeing her parents’ car, she startles away from Aoi, barely managing to keep the alarm off of her face. He simply raises his eyebrows at her, completely casual about the situation. How did he feel so casual about this?! It felt like flirting. It _was_ flirting. Her _youth pastor_ just flirted with her! She was sure that this was forbidden in some way, there is no way that it wasn’t! Hell, all he’d done was flirt with her, barely, and her parents had pulled in AFTER it had happened and she STILL felt like she got caught doing something she shouldn’t!

As the car makes its way towards them, she stands stiffly from the bench, willing her blush to fade. Clearing her throat and brushing invisible dirt from her clothes, she glances uncertainly at Aoi. He stands politely beside her, waiting to send her off. Namie’s mom is in the passenger seat, rolling down her window as they pull up to the curb.

Namie steps forward to open the rear passenger door, and as she reaches out, her hand brushes Aoi’s. She can feel his presence just beside her, reaching around her to open it for her. She doesn’t dare turn to look at him, unsettled (but not unpleasantly so) by his close proximity.

“Here, let me,” he says, voice low, close enough to her for his breath to rustle her hair.

“Of course, th-thank you,” she fumbles, doing her best to ignore the hand that brushes her lower back as he helps her in the car. As soon as she’s in, he closes the door as casually as ever, and moves to her mom’s window. Resting his arms on the door, he bends down to address her parents with the most charming of smiles.

“Good afternoon! Miss Namie has informed me that her new schedule is troubling you. I just wanted to thank you for making it work so far, it’s been really great to have her join us.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, dear! We’re just happy to see her so devoted to the church,” her mom gently pats Aoi’s forearm, laughing. _That’s a lie,_ Namie bristles at the plastic persona and affected laugh her mom adopts, _you’re so full of shit._

Watching Aoi apprehensively, Namie wills him not to believe her. He seems to catch on to the cloyingly sweet tone of voice immediately, his own smile settling into a fake one to rival the best, “Ah, well, in any case, we’d discussed the possibility of her carpooling with me, since I pass your place on my way in. I think it would be a good thing, since her schedule here is now more similar to mine. It would save you the trip back out here, and give us a bit more freedom with our weekly meetings, since we never know how long they are going to take.”

“We simply couldn’t ask that of you,” her mom puts her hand to her chest, voice still syrupy. Namie continues willing Aoi to resist it, silently pleading for him to answer in her favor. She’s relieved when Aoi’s smile tightens a bit; he seems as set on it as she is.

“Oh, but it’s no trouble,” he turns her mom’s phrase back on her, voice dripping with honey. If one wasn’t paying attention, they’d miss the fact he was mocking her. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with the warmth of his eyes wouldn’t notice the chilled edge behind them now, “I do insist.”

“Well, that’s awfully kind of you, dear. I suppose that would be alright, don’t you think, sweetheart?” With a brief tap to her father’s arm to draw his attention, Namie’s mom gives in, just like that. Namie’s father nods his agreement, and her mom turns that sickeningly fake expression back to Aoi, “Okay.”

“Excellent,” Aoi says, and then turns a genuine smile towards the back seat, “I’ll see you next week, Miss Namie! Bright and early!”

She can’t help the rush of relief she feels, and gives him a broad smile in return as the car starts to pull away. Rolling down her own window, she calls back in his direction with a little wave, “See you!”


	3. Week 3 - Before Mass

Pastel sunrise sky greets Namie in the early morning of week three. The air is still crisp with morning chill, and there’s a thin, wispy fog lingering in some places. It seems as if the world is still sleepy, a fitting atmosphere as far as Namie’s concerned. Standing in her summer dress outside her front door, she yawns. Aoi would be arriving any moment to pick her up, heralding the official start of their carpooling. Hugging her song book to her chest, she blinks blearily into the distance, unsure which direction Aoi would be arriving from.

As it turns out, she could hear him before she could see him. It was the undeniable sound of muffled music being played way too loudly that caught her ear, getting louder and louder as the car approached her house. It was black, flashy, with tinted windows. He doesn’t pull into the driveway, simply comes to a stop by the curb in front of her house. Tentatively, she starts walking towards it; it had to be him, who else would be pulling up to her house this early on a Sunday? But she couldn’t see through the window to be sure. As if he could hear her concerns, the window rolls down, revealing Aoi hidden behind oversized dark sunglasses and wearing a broad smile. Through the open window, aggressive rock music poured from the vehicle, catching Namie by surprise. He’d mentioned that he liked rock music before, but she hadn’t expected something with an atmosphere so charged and dark.

“Mornin’,” he greets, barely audible over his tunes.

“Good morning, Mr. Aoi!” she replies, passing around the front of the car and hopping into the passenger seat. As she settles in, he turns the music down considerably, rolling his window back up.

“Now, now, didn’t I tell you? It’s just Aoi now,” He touches her forearm briefly, and she continues to watch the spot long after his hand moves away. After yesterday, she almost feels hyper-sensitized, having a shock of something shoot through her even with such a tiny gesture. She doesn’t even realize that she’s staring, and the time window for a response quickly passes. Aoi’s hand now curls under her chin, lifting her head up and turning it towards him, “Don’t you remember?”

It’s as if meeting his eyes startles her out of a daze, and she quickly turns her head away, hiding her blush behind her hair, “Oh! Yes, of course Mist— uhm, Aoi. I’m just not really awake yet, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums dubiously, but pulls away from the curb anyway. 

He cranks the music back up, and they begin their drive. Namie isn’t really sure when the lyrics began to make sense to her—she wasn’t listening actively, but they started to filter in—but the content of them had her jaw dropping. It was dark and agonized, some lamenting. Wide eyed, Namie stares at Aoi as he bobs his head with the music, mouthing the words. His fingers tap on the steering wheel in time with a guitar solo as if he’d memorized it. Could it really be? This whole time, her youth pastor spent his free time listening to stuff like this? She could scarcely believe it. 

At some point, he seems to notice her staring, and he gives her an innocent look, “What?”

“This is a, um… Well, an _interesting_ choice of music,” she says, holding her songbook to herself as if it would act as a shield.

“Do you like it?” he asks, glancing between her and the road with a smirk, “They’re my favorite.”

“Umm…” Namie begins to say no, but she bites her lip and swallows her answer. If they’re his favorite, she doesn’t want to bash them. And besides, she had gotten hung up on the lyrical content and wasn’t sure if she liked the sound or not. She listens for a few moments with her eyes closed, and before long, she feels the unmistakable pull of music inspiring vivid imagery within her head. Blasting drum beats and throbbing bass lines have her head bobbing as well, and the singer’s voice swells around her. Decision made, she opens her eyes again and nods, “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

Aoi laughs brightly, “Good! That’s good!” And then he lays on the gas.

They make it to the church faster than Namie could have expected, and after listening to the blaring music, the silence of the morning seems strange to her when they climb out of the car. Aoi makes his way to her side and they approach the door together; he holds it open for her to go first, and she steps into the lobby.

“I have to go make sure everything’s set up for Sunday school. Uruha should be in there somewhere,” Aoi waves his hand flippantly towards the door to the nave, “Maybe see if he needs help with anything? Father Ruki probably isn’t here yet. Never is. Same with Reita, only the Lord knows what he’s up to.”

“Oh, um. Okay,” Namie ducks her head slightly, hugging the songbook tight to her chest again, “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Of course,” he says, touching her arm again. She shivers at the gentle brush of fingers.

“Alright,” she smiles, and scurries off to find Uruha. If it wouldn’t hurt her pride, she’d admit that she was fleeing. He’d flirted with her last week, and she had been ready to dismiss it. After all, it’s very easy to misread a situation! But today he’d gone right back to those fleeting touches. She considers what might have changed that he would be interested. She has only one conclusion, and he’d said it himself: she was grown. Inside the nave, the door shuts behind her, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The room is blessedly silent, and she manages to calm down within it. Making her way to the piano, she leaves the songbook there, open and ready for her to play from. On this side of the room, she can hear some movement happening from the storage rooms, so she heads that way with the assumption that it was the Deacon.

She was right, of course. Finding him there was no surprise. What WAS surprising, however, was what he was doing when she walked in. He was sitting on a box, legs spread wide, one propped up on another, smaller box. The communion flagon was on a shelf nearby—already filled, she hoped—because she’d caught Deacon Uruha in the process of drinking directly from a bottle of wine. Namie gasps, staring wide-eyed at the man before her. For his part, he makes a “hm!” noise, the small jolt of surprise making him dribble just a tiny bit of wine. There’s a quick flash of pink as his tongue darts out to clean it from his lips, and Namie’s eyes seem to hone in on it. He looks up at her with an unaffected expression.

Seeing the look on her face, he simply asks, “What?” 

“Do um,” Namie shakes her head, as if to clear it, “Do you always drink like that?”

“Only when the drink’s good,” he shrugs. He’s more concerned with cleaning up some of the wine he’d dribbled, licking across his hand, and then making a slow trail up the neck of the bottle. Again, Namie helplessly watches, her imagination turning the action into something sultry. Embarrassed by her own thoughts, she blushes. He looks back up her just as he’s finishing the swipe, quirking an eyebrow at her flustered state. Tilting the bottle towards her, he asks, “Thirsty, Miss Namie?”

“Um, I think I’m good,” she crosses her arms self-consciously.

“Are you sure? There’s only a few sips left,” again, his tongue passes across his lips. He does it slowly this time, and just like before, she follows the path with her eyes. He smirks a little, “And it’s delicious...”

_He did that on purpose,_ she thinks, _Why wouldn’t he? You’re so obvious! Now stop looking at him like that!_

“…and it’d be awfully rude of me to enjoy it by myself. You won’t let me drink alone, will you, Miss Namie?”Again, he tilts the bottle her way in offering. She hesitates, so he shakes it. Then he gives a little upward jerk of his chin as if to say “come here.”

For the sake of bonding—that’s how she was justifying it to herself—she walks over to take the bottle, “Maybe one taste…”

“That’s my girl,” he gives a full smile, letting her take it from his hand. Dropping his leg from the box, he sits forward attentively. His expression is serious, and the atmosphere of the room begins to shift, suddenly thick and palpable. She can feel his eyes focused intently on her as she brings the bottle to her mouth to drink. His voice is lower than it had been, coming out more as a purr, “How does it taste?”

Namie licks her lips, deliberating. While she does, he stands, very suddenly putting him in her space, his comparative height making him loom over her. Swallowing nervously, she looks up at him, and tries to offer the bottle back, “It’s um… it’s very sweet. You should have the rest. You seemed to like it.”

His hand closes around hers instead, his eyes burning with something Namie isn’t sure she wants to name. Again, he speaks in that low tone, “Yes, but did _you_ like it, hm?”

Glancing between their hands wrapped around the bottle and his face, Namie struggles to answer, “I… yes…”

“Mmh, and how would you like to taste something even sweeter?” he starts dragging his thumb gently across the backs of her fingers, which seems to set her skin alight. 

“I…um… I-I—“ she can barely speak, her attention drawn between his beautiful face, the slow drag of his thumb and trying to make a sentence. Especially when she’s fairly certain she’s balancing on the edge of something decidedly forbidden. His other hand gently rests on her hip, and he steps just a little closer, the warmth of him almost dizzying. Namie tries again, “And just w-what would that something be?”

He doesn’t answer. For the longest time, they gaze into each other’s eyes. She was nervous, waiting. He was cautious and measured, as if he might scare her away. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in, making his intent obvious. _He’s going to kiss me. DEACON URUHA IS GOING TO KISS ME. What is going on?! This isn’t happening. This CAN NOT be happening!!_

But it _was_ happening, and she felt pinned to the spot, unable to stop it… and unsure if she really wanted to.

The moment his lips brush hers, her eyes flutter shut, and she surrenders to the kiss with a soft sigh. His hand on her hip wraps around her lower back, tugging her just a little closer since she wasn’t rejecting it. Feeling assured, he presses their lips together a bit more firmly. Namie’s heart was racing, thoughts in disarray at the softness of his lips and the strength of his arm around her. Part of her was still convinced this shouldn’t be happening, but damn if it didn’t feel wonderful! Of its own accord, her free hand cradles the back of his head, holding him to her as he deepens the kiss further. That tongue which had so distracted her earlier now swept across the seam of her lips. Namie tentatively responds, opening her mouth to his exploring tongue, shuddering when it grazes across her own. The taste of the wine they’d shared lingers in the kiss, which is more potent and intoxicating than any drink could ever be. Suckling gently on her bottom lip, he finally pulls away. 

For a few moments, Namie remains frozen, breathing shallowly, but then her eyes flutter open. She’s got that innocent, doe-eyed look that comes so naturally to her, looking dazed and confused up at the Deacon, who was still holding her close.

“The wine tastes so much better off of your tongue,” he whispers.

Her gaze explores his face, but then returns to his eyes. She’s speechless. It’s then that he leans in again, but he just barely gets to touch their lips together, because instead of fogging her brain, this one seems to startle her to clarity.

“Woah, woah! What? I… I…” She to back away, but he’s still got his arm around her and his hand covering hers on the bottle, so she doesn’t get very far. Giving one very meek attempt to separate them, she squeaks, “We… we can’t.”

He purses his lips, almost as if he’s pouting, “Why not?”

“Because!” Namie blinks rapidly, trying to vocalize the cluttered emotions she’s feeling, “Because I… Because you…”

_…are someone I’ve grown to recognize as an authority figure? …because you are a deacon at my church? …because you’re the second faith leader to flirt with me and I don’t know how to handle the fact that I’m a full-grown adult?...because you are too damn handsome and it might kill me?_

Unsure how to put it, she lets out a frustrated huff; her face reads pure distress as she looks up at him. She wishes he could read her mind, so he’d understand. He is waiting patiently for an answer, but that waiting is in vain. Pulling her hand free, Namie chugs what little wine is left in the bottle, then hands it back to him. Without another word, she turns on her heel and hurries out of the storage room, leaving him almost as confused as she felt.


	4. Week 3 - After Mass

Mass was over. Distracted as she was, Namie was surprised she managed to get through it! Her playing was almost mechanical, but only a trained musician might have noticed the difference. How could she possibly play normally when her lips were still tingling from the Deacon’s kiss? The wine still lingered on her tongue. She wanted more of it—wanted the pleasant, drowsy feeling that came with it—in the hopes that it would calm the chaotic swirl of emotions within her. Perhaps nothing in her life had left her as conflicted as Uruha had; relations with her faith leaders couldn’t possibly be permissible! …could it? It must be forbidden somehow, she feels.

Still musing over the morality of what had happened, she remains quiet as she drinks the leftover communion wine with the deacons, Aoi and Father Ruki. Once or twice, she made fleeting eye contact with Uruha, each time she would glance away hurriedly with burning cheeks. If she paid attention, she might feel his gaze lingering on her long after she looked away. He wanted her to hold that eye contact, and looked as if maybe he had something to say to her; that scared her most, of course—what he might say—and was part of the reason she kept looking away so quickly in the first place. She just wasn’t ready to face him.

Shaking fingers hold her near-empty cup, and Namie’s stomach is flipping and churning with nerves. The conversation is dying down, therefore she’s running out of time before she might actually have to talk to Uruha! Just as she’s sure she might _actually_ vomit, she’s saved.

“Well,” Aoi says, setting his cup down and clapping his hands together resolutely, “I gotta go clean up. The kids were pretty rowdy today, left me a mess to deal with.”

“I’ll help!” Namie squeaks out, nearly slamming her cup down in her enthusiasm. The relief of finding a way out of her situation is almost dizzying.

“So eager to help!” Father Ruki says, looking pleased, “We really are lucky you’ve joined us, Miss Namie.”

“Thank you, Father,” she returns politely.

Slinging a casual arm over Namie’s shoulders, Aoi leads her from the nave, chatting to her about the class he’d had today. Though she tries to listen, her head is still flooded with that tangle of emotions, and so none of his words manage to actually stick.

Well away from the others, in the basement classroom where Sunday school and youth group meet, Aoi finally rounds on her with a serious expression. Arms crossed over his chest, his demeanor makes Namie feel like his pupil again, instead of his peer. She shrinks under his gaze.

After a moment of imposing silence, he says softly, “What’s on your mind, Namie? You were distracted when I picked you up this morning, but not to this extent. Something’s troubling you…”

“What? Oh no, I’m fine,” she dismisses, but her good-girl upbringing makes even the smallest of lies sit wrong with her conscience… but could she really tell him about this? There could be all sorts of consequences for her, or the Deacon, or the both of them!

Aoi stays quiet, watching her expectantly. Clearly, he didn’t believe her, and between his silence and his authoritative gaze, she was squirming with discomfort. In the end, she’s unable to hold her ground.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t lie to you,” she wails, hiding her face in her hands, sniffling. “Something _has_ happened, Mr. Aoi! Something’s happened, and I don’t know how, or why, or how to feel about it, and I really don’t know what to do!”

Strong arms wrap gently around her, and Aoi pulls her close to his chest. The embrace is grounding, and only a few minutes later, her crying subsides. Aoi lets her go and wipes her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Still holding her cheeks, he leans close to search her face, and Namie thinks she could get lost in the warmth of his brown eyes.

 _What is it with you?!_ She thinks bitterly of herself, _Now is not the time!_

“What happened?” the concern is evident in his eyes, “Has someone hurt you?”

“No! …no,” Namie tries to shake her head, but doesn’t get very far since he’s still holding her cheeks. “I’m not hurt! I’m just very, very, _very_ confused. But… but I don’t know if I should say what… w-what happened. I don’t want to cause trouble…”

“If it’s serious enough to bring you to tears, then it’s serious enough that you need to tell me,” he says, and once more, she feels as if she’s back in youth group. Tears well up in her eyes, but she can’t refuse the command in his voice.

Slamming her eyes shut, like she was afraid of his reaction, she barely manages to whisper, “Deacon Uruha kissed me.”

When he doesn’t respond, she pries one eye open to see his dumbfounded expression.

“…what?”

“Deacon Uruha,” Namie repeats, “He… kissed me. This morning, before mass, in the storage room.”

Wincing, Namie waits for Aoi’s reaction.

A queer look crosses his face for a few moments, like he’d just sniffed a cheap perfume too closely.

Still, she waits.

And finally—FINALLY—Aoi reacts. Just… not in the way she’d expected. Instead of outrage or concern or anything like that, he actually bursts into laughter, of all things!

“That’s all?” he asks when his laughter calms, though he’s still clearly amused, “All this fuss over a kiss?”

“B-but, it was _the deacon_ ,” she stresses, voice tinged with a whine. _Why is this so funny? Why is he laughing at me?_

“The Deacon is just a man, Namie,” he tells her, brushing her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering after the motion to ghost over the sensitive skin behind her ear. “He is a man with needs and desires, like any other,” Aoi explains, glancing briefly at her lips, “And you are a beautiful young woman, Namie. It’s not surprising that he would be interested in pursuing those needs and desires with you.”

All at once, Namie’s stomach flips again, her heart pounding in her ears. Such a direct compliment from Aoi makes her flush with delight. He’d called her beautiful! He thought she was desirable! The deacon thought she was, too—oh. The sexual connotation of the statement catches up to her suddenly, and her blush deepens with embarrassment.

“But, I…,” Namie protests again, eyebrows knitting together. “He’s a deacon,” she repeats, voice dropping to a bashful whisper, “It can’t be proper to have, um, _relations…_ with a man of the church, can it?”

Mirth dances in Aoi’s expression, and he laughs under his breath with his head downturned. Looking up at her through dark lashes, he asks, “Can’t it?”

“Mister Aoi?” she squeaks, feeling young and unsure, so she defaults to addressing him politely.

“Namie, we’re all human here,” his fingers trail down the side of her neck, making her shiver. “Men of God or not, that much remains true. We are just like everyone else: flawed and curious and excitable and very, very human.”

There’s a subtle change to the youth pastor’s voice, a husk developing in his tone that some part of Namie reacted to instinctively. His lowly spoken words roll over her, trapping her in place and mesmerizing her in much the same way as she’d gotten with Uruha just hours ago.

“Kissing is natural, dear. Something humans do, isn’t it?” calloused fingertips brush delicately across her bottom lip, sending a pleasurable little shock through her, “So if you both were willing, and in the moment it just felt _right_ , then what harm is there? Did you enjoy his kiss, Miss Namie? Is that why it has you so flustered?”

Flustered, indeed! She can barely manage a response; his closeness and gentle touches fog up her brain.

“Um. I-I uh… yes?” she stutters, eyes drifting to Aoi’s lips when his tongue sweeps out to wet them.

“There’s no shame in enjoying a kiss,” one hand drops to the dip of her lower back, pressing her closer. Her own hands rest on his chest, and she looks up at him, wide-eyed and captivated. “There’s no shame in enjoying anything, my dear. Tell me, when he kissed you, did he hold you close like this?”

She nods dumbly.

“And it was nice to have a man hold you, wasn’t it?”

Another nod.

“He would have kissed you deeply, holding you like that. Did you want him to kiss you more?” his thumb gently strokes back and forth on her back, both distracting and comforting her.

Shutting her eyes in embarrassment, she nods again, “Y-yes.”

Aoi’s voice drops to a whisper at this point, “But you didn’t let him, did you? What happened, Namie? Why didn’t you enjoy those extra kisses, if you wanted them?”

“I was scared,” she whispers back, eyes opening again, searching Aoi’s for guidance, “I’ve… I’ve never been kissed before. It was so _intense_. I’ve never felt that way… And, he’s a deacon! It felt so naughty and I was sure it was wrong. It had to be! It was overwhelming, and I got scared, so I ran.”

“So stuck on his title! You trust him don’t you? Trust me—the both of us?” the hand that had pushed her hair back now lifts her chin, angling her face towards his, “Do you think we would mislead you?”

“Of course I trust you!” She scoffs, baffled by his questions, “I would never think that of you.”

“Then you have nothing to fear. No need to run away from his kisses, Namie. Those feelings can get overwhelming when the kiss is really nice, but you should just let them roll over you like waves,” Aoi pets his hand over her hair, smiling, “They’re nothing to be afraid of. Just ride the waves, instead of fighting them, and eventually, you’ll find yourself in an ocean of bliss. You could get there from his kisses, if you let yourself. Wouldn’t you like that, Namie?”

“I don’t know,” she says. Again, she’s conflicted. That _sounds_ awesome, but she’s intimidated. Honestly, she doesn’t know Uruha very well, and her lack of experience makes her hesitate. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable enough with him for that…”

A moment passes quietly between them, in which Aoi looks contemplative. Namie tries desperately to calm the panic threatening to rise within her. Licking his lips again, Aoi decides to speak.

“Would you like to try it with me, instead?” he asks, again smoothing his hand over her hair to soothe her, “You know me well. We could try it, and if you enjoy it, you can seek him out. But for now, we could chase that ocean current together. How about it, hm?”

Her voice is small, “You  won’t let me drown?”

“I won’t let you drown,” he promises.

After a few moments of deliberation, Namie gives the slightest little nod of her head. If Aoi hadn’t been watching her so intently, he might have thought he imagined it. It was all the sign he needed.

“Come here,” he leads her over to his desk, patting the edge to invite her to sit. After she hops up onto it, Aoi places his fingers softly on her knees, gently pushing them apart, making her summer dress ride up her thighs. Namie goes to protest, panicking—she’d agreed to kisses, and nothing more!—but he lets go as quick as he’d touched her, stepping between her knees to get closer to her. Sighing with relief, Namie watches him with those wide, doe eyes again. Aoi smirks knowingly at her, “That’s a lesson for another day.”

Heat rushes through her veins, but he gives her no time to reply, leaning in to claim her lips in a gentle kiss. Namie is absolutely sure her heart will beat straight through her ribcage! Sometimes during her adolescence, she’d fantasized about kissing her youth pastor. He was the only major male influence she had outside her family, and he just happened to be incredibly handsome and charming! Maybe her girlhood crush never fully went away, because he’d only gotten more and more handsome and charming as time passed. Giddy with excitement, her toes curl in her ballet flats and she has to hold onto his arms to steady herself.

Aoi’s kiss is as patient and attentive as the man giving it. Soft presses of the lips, meeting and parting almost rhythmically, each small kiss a tantalizing preview of what it would be like for him to kiss her properly, sending pleasant little shivers down her spine. Pausing to gage her mood, he pulls back the slightest bit, and she unwittingly leans in, chasing after his lips. With a smile, he kisses her again.

This time, he’s more insistent. Pressing their mouths together more firmly, he tugs gently at her lips with his own every now and then. Feeling the tip of his tongue flicker out to taste her, her fingers tighten around Aoi’s biceps, heat searing through her veins. Finally, she seems to come alive before him, her body reacting instinctively, so he deepens the kiss further.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulls her in close. She too pulls him closer, with one leg hooking around the back of his, and one of her hands threading into the hair on the back of his head. Running his tongue along her bottom lip, he hums approvingly, hand stroking down the outside of her thigh. They’re pressed flush against each other now where their hips meet, a fact he thinks might have escaped Namie, since she hasn’t shied away from him yet. But he has _definitely_ noticed; he can feel the heat of her core even through his jeans. Resisting the urge to press his hips closer to that heat, Aoi instead focuses on caressing her as much as he kisses her, letting her grow accustomed to his hands on her body, which soon starts arching into his touch.

It’s during one of those arches that her hips roll forward, pressing her sensitive center directly against the hardness forming in Aoi’s jeans. Gasping at the shock of pleasure, Namie seems to startle, retreating from the kiss.

“It’s alright,” he reassures her, voice steady, “Did that feel good, dear?”

Blushing fiercely, Namie nods. Pressing their foreheads together, Aoi moves his hands to her hips.

“You can do it again, I don’t mind,” he presses at her hips with his fingertips, urging her to roll them again. She does, and gasps again. “It feels good for me too, you know,” he says, kissing her briefly, “even better if you rock against me while I’m kissing you. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything with me; if it feels good, do it. Your body knows what it needs, so just relax, and let yourself move against me.”

Despite her embarrassment, Namie is able to melt back into his sultry, heated kisses. Fingers tighten in his hair, she can’t seem to get close enough to him even though their bodies and tongues are curled around one another. In her search to get closer, her hips move again, and again, and again. The pleasure builds each time she does, hitting her in waves just like he’d said. One of his hands cups the curve of her breast, thumb brushing over a nipple through her clothes, pulling a soft little moan from her throat. All the while, she keeps rubbing herself against him, driving him mad. He wants so badly to unfasten his jeans. It’d be so easy to pull himself out, move her panties to the side, and just take her here and now. Just the thought of her heat clenching around him makes his fingers clench, grasping at her chest and hip. It would be so easy…

For Namie, the waves have blended into one consistent rush of pleasure that thrummed through her system, building in a grand crescendo towards something greater. She’s not sure how it could possibly feel better than this, but her body seems intent upon reaching that high, so she tries to relax like Aoi had said, and let herself chase that moment of bliss. She’s nearly there, so consumed by pleasant feelings from his lips and tongue and teeth and grasping fingers and that rigid line of his erection that seemed to nestle against her _just right._

Aoi is nearing his peak as well, excited by the way shy, innocent Namie blossomed into such a sensual creature under his attentions. Vivid images flood his imagination, of how she would be if he taught her more than just how to make out and grind. He imagines the moans, the sighs, the scratch of her nails, and the heat of her mouth kissing him elsewhere…

Unable to stop himself, he thrusts his hips against her, the movement sharp compared to the fluid roll of hips she’d maintained. Both of them moan, the sound muffled by the kiss, so he repeats the action.

The kiss turns sloppy as they rut against each other, grasping desperately at whatever skin is closest. Tension builds within them both, coiling within them, tighter and tighter until Aoi gives one last sudden thrust that sends them both toppling over the edge of release. Moaning through their climaxes, they both keep writhing until they come back down from the high, leaving their bodies over-sensitized. Breaking away from the kiss, Aoi pants against her lips.

It takes him a few moments to realize that he’d come in his pants like a randy little schoolboy, and he laughs in disbelief, kissing Namie again.

“Feeling good, Miss Namie?” he asks, lightly caressing her legs. Shivering at the touch, she smiles.

Eyes glazed and distant, she says, “I feel great.”

Aoi laughs at the far-away sound of her answer, brushing his nose against hers, “Mmh, good. Me too. Are you still afraid?” Shaking her head ‘no’, she smiles at him. He kisses her forehead, the corner of her mouth, and then her lips, “You’re always welcome to come to me with questions, Namie. About anything you want to learn… we can try them, just like this, until you’re comfortable with them. I’d be glad to teach you…”

“Thank you, Aoi,” she gently runs her fingers down the side of his face, looking him over with awe. Her voice is still a little dreamy, as if she hadn’t registered the experience as reality yet.

“Of course,” he catches her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm before he puts her hands back into her space, and steps back. Scratching at the back of his head, he chuckles, “I, uh, I’ve got more to clean up than the classroom, now.”

Some clarity returns to Namie’s eyes with the distance between them, “Oh! Yeah, go, get yourself clean.”

Aoi ducks from the room, headed for the restroom, leaving Namie to herself. Slipping off the desk, she readjusts her dress, smoothing out the skirt and tucking her hair behind her ears. Her body is still tingling pleasantly, and she glances around the room distractedly. It’s a mess, just like he’d said, so she begins to tidy things up as she waits for Aoi to return.

When he does, they clean the room together in companionable silence, though Namie struggles to keep a blush off her face, remembering what they’d done moments before. She’s not sure how their relationship will change from here on out, or what it implies for her interactions with Uruha, but she can’t help the giddy feeling in her chest when she thinks about the coming weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length between updates. Things are tough, but I haven't abandoned this yet. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, just know that the blasphemy only gets stronger from here on out! lol


	5. Week 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize again for the slow updates, I'm just awful about it! I hope this chapter was worth the wait ;D

Come the morning of week four, Namie was both excited and terrified as she waited for Aoi to arrive to pick her up. Their moment in the classroom last week had lit a fire under her, so to speak, and she’d been simmering ever since. She’d scarcely thought of anything else, in fact, she was consumed by the memory of it and fantasies of what he might show her next.

For the first time in her life, her hands explored her own body, clutching at her chest where Aoi had, trying to recreate the intense sensations he’d inspired. It just wasn’t the same, and led to desperate fingers pressing between her legs until she’d driven herself to ecstasy. It happened every night, and she’d bite her lips to keep silent while her parents slept in the next room over, and some days too, when she would have a few hours to herself. Each time, after she’d come writhing against her own hand, her cheeks would burn with shame as she washed her own scent from her fingers, and she’d take a few moments to pray for the Lord’s patience with her and her sudden, unrelenting perversion. Each time was also frustratingly less satisfying than the moment she’d come undone at the hands of her youth pastor.

So, after a week of futile attempts to chase that high, she was left a bit edgy with anticipation. The moment she heard the familiar thumping of too-loud music approaching, she started off the porch with a giddy smile on her face. Namie was already to the curb by the time he pulled up, and she slipped into the passenger seat with an excited, “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” he smiles at her from behind oversized sunglasses, “In good spirits this morning, I see.”

“Yes,” she blushes, “I’ve been looking forward to today.”

“Ahh,” his smile turns into a smirk, and she can almost see the teasing look in his eye, “You really love to play that piano, don’t you? Surely that’s why you’re so eager...”

Her blush deepens, ducking her head a little, “Something like that.”

Aoi takes off his sunglasses, leaning towards her. Then, his fingers brush along her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear so she couldn’t hide behind it. When she doesn’t look at him, he nudges her chin toward him with a curled finger, “I’m glad you aren’t running from this, Namie. Still not afraid?”

Wide, honest eyes meet his, surprised to find him so close.

 “I’m a little afraid,” she admits, and for a moment, she’s too embarrassed to meet his eyes. After a nervous breath, Namie looks up again, “But… I’m more than a little curious, now, too.”

Aoi’s look softens a bit, and again he takes her gently by the chin, making her heart race and her breathing falter. Warm, dark eyes rove over her face, and he murmurs a quiet, “Good.”

Then, he kisses her. It’s a firm kiss, which could be misconstrued as chaste if not for the heat of intention behind it. He lets it linger just long enough to leave her wanting, and then he puts his sunglasses back on, taking off towards the church as if nothing had happened.

\---

By the time they arrived, Namie had barely managed to fight the blush off of her face. It was difficult to stay in her seat when the man who featured so heavily in her fantasies was beside her, but she didn’t dare try to instigate. She wasn’t brave enough for that.

Seated at the piano, Namie runs mechanically through some songs from the hymnal as she tries to keep her mind off of Aoi.  She’s staring at the sheet music with unfocused eyes; she’s memorized most of them anyway. So focused on the struggle in her brain, she doesn’t hear the door to the nave open, and it’s Uruha’s soft voice that soon startles her.

“Miss Namie,” he says.

“D-deacon Uruha!” she gasps, the notes she’d been playing cut off jarringly as she turns to face him. She instead finds a wall of boxes that he was struggling to keep balanced in his arms.

“Could you please open the storage room for me?” he asks, and she’s already standing before he can finish the question. Any nerves she had about seeing him were vastly overshadowed by her need to help.

“Of course!” she says, keeping pace with him across the room.

“Here,” he jingles the keys that were dangling precariously from one of his fingers, and Namie takes them, “It’s the one with the blue top.”

“Okay,” she scurries ahead of him to unlock the door, and pushes it open, holding it for him to carry the boxes through. Following him in, the door swings shut behind her. She nervously fiddles with the keys while he sets the boxes down and shakes out his arms. Turning to look at her when he’s recovered, his intense eyes make her breath hitch. Now that the boxes are out of the way, there’s nothing to distract her from the nerves, which hit her full force.

“Um,” she fiddles with the keys again. “Here,” then she presses them into his hands, turning to make a hasty retreat. Again, his gentle voice brings her motions to a halt.

“Miss Namie,” he says again. It takes her a few moments to make herself turn back around. Setting the keys on the shelf beside him without looking away from her, he takes a tentative step towards her, like he’s afraid he’ll frighten her again, “Please, stay for a moment. I’d like to speak with you.”

 _You’re an adult. You can handle this._ Namie tries to calm herself, swallowing thickly.

“Um, o-okay…”

“I’d like to apologize to you,” his eyes drop to the floor, and his shoulders droop like he’s exhausted, “About what happened last week… I shouldn’t have—I crossed a line and you—I-I, uh.” Uruha struggles to a stop. It seems Namie wasn’t the only nervous one, and she feels a pang of sympathy in her chest, “I messed up, Namie. I shouldn’t have forced a kiss on you like that, and made you uncomfortable. I just… I’m really bad at telling myself ‘no’, I guess.”

For a few moments, Namie tries to figure out how to reply, and it takes Uruha peeking nervously up at her like a child in trouble to inspire her words.

“It’s okay,” she blurts out, startling them both. He doesn’t seem to believe her so she closes the distance between them, voice softening, “Really, Uruha. It’s okay. If I didn’t want you to, I would have pushed you away sooner, but you’re so handsome, and it felt so nice when you pulled me close and I—“ Namie stops, hiding her blushing face behind her hands and letting out a frustrated huff. She’s beet red when she drops her hands, but determined, “That was my first kiss. And you have to admit that it wasn’t exactly… a _normal_ situation… to have a first kiss in. I was nervous—am _still_ nervous—but it was… I enjoyed it.”

“You did?” a bit of confidence seems restored to him, and he straightens up, “I didn’t realize it was your first one. I just assumed that you’d been kissed… I’m sorry…”

“Well, thank you. I do appreciate your apology,” she touches his arm briefly, “But please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m interested in you too, but I’m not ready. I really don’t know you that well and I’m still a little scared…”

“I understand,” he nods, “I’ll give you some space. Just let me know when you _are_ ready.  And, thank you… for not freaking out on me. For not telling everyone I’m some kind of creep.”

“Yeah, of course,” she nods. Swallowing the immediate urge to correct him and admit that Aoi knows, she gives him a smile. Standing on her tippy-toes, she kisses his cheek.  When he smiles back at her, she gives his arm a brief squeeze, and returns to her piano.

\---

There is little to do after the day’s mass. The tension from last week is absent, and the Sunday school class left the place much cleaner after a scolding from Aoi. After a little bit of chit-chat with Father Ruki and the Deacons, Namie asks Aoi to take her home. Normally, she’d be content to stay and enjoy the friendly conversation, but she’s still just as anxious as she was earlier, except her chat with Uruha has left her even more eager than she had been before.

The ride home is uneventful, but Namie’s heart races faster the closer they get to her house. By the time they pull up at the curb, she’s squirming in her seat.

“Um, Aoi,” she starts, nervously petting a strand of hair, “Can you park in the driveway for a bit?”

His lips pout a little, he gives a little nod, and she can practically hear the questions floating in his head as he moves the car off the road to park. Taking off his sunglasses and seatbelt, Aoi turns in the seat to face her. “What is it, Namie?”

“I spoke with Uruha,” she glances at Aoi, but goes back to toying with her hair, “He apologized for kissing me.”

“And what did you say?” he tilts his head, watching her curiously.

“I, um… I told him he didn’t need to be sorry about it,” her cheeks start burning, as always, “Th-that I enjoyed it, really. But that I’m not comfortable, um, doing stuff like that with him, yet…”

“Did he take it well?”

“Oh, yes, he did,” she confirms, still facing forward and paying attention to her hair, “He was very kind. Said to let him know if and when I might be ready for that, with him, and until then, he’ll give me space.”

Aoi seems to mull over this a bit. Nothing bad has happened, so he’s wondering why she’s so nervous to tell him this. Before he can voice this, she starts again.

“But… Aoi…” Namie finally lets go of her hair, sitting up straighter and turning to face him, rambling, “I felt so bad, telling him no. He really is such a nice man, and he’s handsome of course, and I really liked it when he kissed me… I shouldn’t be afraid of him, but I am, and I don’t want to be. He looked at me like he was in trouble, Aoi… like he’d been beating himself up about it. I wanted to comfort him… to… let him kiss me and hold me just so he’d stop looking like that. Is… is that normal?”

She hits him with those innocent, trusting eyes again and he licks his lips.

“Yes, that’s normal,” he nods, “These desires of yours…  wanting to pursue them, it’s all normal. This is all new for you, Namie.  Of course you’re nervous about it, and he understands, I’m sure.”

“I hate being so nervous,” he slumps in her seat, arms crossed.

Laughing quietly, Aoi runs a hand over her hair, “That’s understandable, too.”

“Were you ever worried about it like this?” she asks, still frowning a little.

“I was, once,” he admits, “But the more experienced I got, the more I enjoyed it. Now, I only ever get anxious with excitement.”

Namie stares at the front of her house, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“Aoi?” she questions, still not looking at him.

“Yes, Miss Namie?”

“I don’t want to be afraid… And, you know, my parents will be visiting family until evening…” she trails off, and Aoi’s eyebrows creep towards his hairline with surprise and anticipation. Could she be suggesting…? After a steadying breath, she turns to look at him with determination in her eyes, though she’s blushing and her hands shake. Reaching over to turn off the car, she pulls the key from the ignition, “Why don’t you come inside for a while?”

Aoi studies her for a few moments in silence, during which her heart threatens to beat through her chest.

“Are you sure that you want me to?”

A few more moments of silence. Her heart still races.

“Yes.”

He seems to accept her answer, and nods his head, reaching for the door handle, “Alright.”

Namie hops out of the car too, struggling to fetch her house key with the way her hands are still shaking. Aoi stands patiently beside her as she unlocks it, and waits for her to invite him in. She nervously ushers him through the doorway and kicks off her shoes, placing her keys and hymnal book on the kitchen table.

“Would you like a glass of water or something?” she offers out of habit.

Thinking the menial task might help calm her, Aoi accepts her offer, “Yes, please.”

Leaning casually against her kitchen counter, the youth pastor looks more comfortable than she does in her own home, watching her retrieve and pour two glasses of water. She hands him his, which he accepts with murmured thanks, and he watches her over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip.

She takes a deeper drink, mouth dry from nerves.

“Breathe, Namie,” he reminds her, smiling softly, “It’s just me, just regular ol’ Aoi. You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

“No,” she responds immediately, though the flash of guilt in her eyes tells him she’s lying.

“C’mere,” he beckons her closer, setting his glass on the counter. Placing hers aside too, she shuffles towards him. Resting an arm around her waist, he pulls her close, combing his fingers through her hair, watching her carefully. “Is this alright? Me holding you like this? We’ve done more than this before; nothing to be scared of, right?”

“Right,” she breathes, though she’s still tense in his embrace. Doe eyes stare up at him, and her fingers rest upon his chest, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“Then we’ll just stay like this for a while,” his hand in her hair moves to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer still, urging her to rest her head on his shoulder. When she does, he lets his other arm wrap around her as well, thumb stroking soothingly across her lower back. The warmth of Aoi’s body and steady rhythm of his heart starts to work their magic on her, and before long, she starts to relax against him. Eventually, she nuzzles softly against him, which makes him smile.

“Ahhh, there we go. That’s better,” Aoi tips her head up towards him, “Alright, Namie?”

“Yes, I’m alright,” she gives him a shy smile in return.

“Good,” he kisses her softly, then. Once. Twice. Then he pulls back, brown eyes patient. “Why did you invite me in today, Namie? What exactly are you hoping for?”

She gets flustered all anew, though she doesn’t tense up against him, “I, um. I want to try more of what we did last week.” Her fingers curl into his shirt, “You said we can try anything, until I’m comfortable with it. I want to feel the way I felt last time... I-I tried, but it just wasn’t the same, and I want you to…” She can’t make herself say it, but the grin creeping across Aoi’s face shows that he understands.

“You tried? Namie, did you touch yourself thinking about me? Naughty girl,” he tuts playfully, taking one of her hands in his, glancing at her fingertips. His voice develops a husky tone, eyes darkening, “Did you press these fingers between your legs? Rub yourself, trying to mimic the way it felt when you were rubbing against me? Did you notice how hot you were there, Namie? I remember… I could feel you through my jeans…”

Namie struggles for an answer, stuttering a bit. Aoi continues talking before she can find her voice, still holding her fingers.

“Were you wet _,_ Namie? Were you _aching?_ I bet it felt good, once your fingers were slick. It was easier then, wasn’t it?” She manages the tiniest of nods, and Aoi starts kissing her fingertips, “And when you were finished—“ another kiss— “left with the wet mess on your fingers,” –another, so soft it makes her shiver— “what did you do? Did you get curious?” –this time, he licks her index finger, sending a wave of heat through her system— “Did you taste yourself?” –an open-mouthed kiss to the tip of her middle finger, suckling gently, making her cheeks burn, shocked by the suggestion—“or did you get up to wash your hands,”—another kiss, almost chaste—“embarrassed by what you’d done?”

Struggling to breathe, Namie chokes out, “I w-washed… my hands.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Aoi smiles, and still holding her hand, leans in to kiss her. Easily, Namie surrenders to the kiss, practically swooning against the older man. His mouth is as hot as his words, searing heat that makes her toes curl, and she can’t help the quiet moan that escapes her.

Much like the week before, Aoi is patient and attentive as the kiss begins, tasting her slowly and allowing Namie to get a feel for his lips. There’s a subtle rhythm to the way he does it, soft presses and gentle tugs of her lips with his own. Sometimes he’ll focus on her upper lip, sometimes the bottom, giving an unhurried introduction to the sensations that leaves her lips tingling. His warm breath fans across her cheek, thumb brushing against her fingers where he had yet to let go of her hand, feather-light touches that tingle there too.

Just as Namie begins to respond more readily, Aoi breaks the kiss, brushing his lips along her jaw and nuzzling just under her ear, “It would be better to sit or lie down. Take us somewhere?”

The first thing to pop in her mind is the couch, but as she eyes the gauzy curtains on the window, she feels much too exposed.

“O-okay,” she swallows distractedly, and after taking a step back, leads him by the hand. Up the stairs, the hallway suddenly feels tiny with him in it too. They pass framed family photos, Namie’s childhood face watches them move down the hall. Both of them keep their eyes down.

Namie leads him to her bedroom, modestly decorated in pink and cream. Remnants of her childhood still linger, stuffed animals abandoned on shelves and in corners, scribbles permanently etched into her desk. Daintily, she sits on the edge of her bed and clears her throat.

“Will this do?”

“Yes, this is fine,” Aoi closes the door and crosses the room, peeking out the window. He seems satisfied with what he sees, and closes the blinds, though it doesn’t darken the room completely. There’s still enough light for him to see the flush of her cheek as she’s turned to watch him. In silence, he unfastens his belt and hangs it over the back of her little desk chair. Then, he crawls across the bed to her, kneeling with his legs to either side of her.

Namie seems confused until he tilts her head so he can kiss her, and her hand naturally reaches up to caress his cheek. Aoi’s hands brush up her arms, over her shoulders, down her back, soothing strokes intended to make her relax and get her acclimated to his touch. It works as well as he’d hoped, and soon she’s relaxing against him, practically sighing.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, dropping chaste little kisses to her jaw, brushing her hair over her other shoulder. Reaching her ear, his tongue pokes out to trace the outer shell of it, sensation making Namie gasp. Over her shoulder, it gives him a nice few of her chest, and he gives a quiet hum of approval. Suckling her earlobe, his hands creep around her body, one stroking down the front of her leg, the other cupping her breast, drawing a hushed little whimper from her. He tightens his fingers, groping her more thoroughly, earning another delightful little sound. Her hand had wound itself into his hair by this point, holding him to her as his mouth left a searing trail of kisses down the side of her neck.

“You are so beautiful, Namie,” he says, pulling of the little shrug-type sweater she was wearing. After pressing a kiss to one of her now-exposed shoulders, he scoots up the bed, reclining into the mound of decorative pillows, slightly turned onto one side. Motioning to the space next to him, he encourages her to follow, “Come here.”

Settling beside him, Namie shyly meets his eyes, earning a kind smile. He runs his hand over her hair like he always does, expression warm and open. His eyes follow the trail of his fingers as they dance down her arm, and then he pulls her hand to his chest.

“You can touch me, too,” Aoi says, voice barely more than a whisper, “Or kiss me, like I was with you. Take your time; I want you to be comfortable.”

Namie’s touch is a little clumsier, but she caresses his chest, leaning in to kiss his lips since she was already familiar with them. Slowly, he introduces tongue to the kiss, deepening it so long as she remains there, while her fingers explore his torso. As her hand drifts down his stomach, he undoes a few buttons at the top of his shirt. He can feel the way she pauses on the buttons when her hand moves back to his chest, and she makes a confused little sound against his lips. Questing fingers search the skin of his collarbones, his upper chest, his neck and the bulge of his Adam’s apple—he swallows so it moves under her fingertips.

She breaks the kiss then, giving him a hesitant glance before she moves to kiss along his jaw like he’d done to her. Aoi gladly tips his head back to allow her better access to him, and the move seems to give her a little confidence, and her kisses grow less and less chaste as she moves down the column of his throat. His scent was clean and masculine, and Namie found it rather inviting. She didn’t know if it was soap, or cologne, or aftershave, or what, but she certainly knew that she liked it. Her lips move along his collarbones, and then her tongue, which surprises Aoi, and a pleased sound rumbles from low in his throat.

“Is this alright?” she asks, her fingers working to unbutton his shirt a bit more.

“It’s very nice,” Aoi lifts his head to smile at her, and then shifts further onto his back. Patting his thighs, he says, “Why don’t you sit here, and lean over me. You can use both your hands that way.”

“Um, okay,” awkwardly moving to straddle him, Namie’s summer dress rides up her legs. His fingers quickly follow, stroking the skin as she blushes down at him, “Like this?”

“Yes,” he nods, again guiding her hands, this time back to the buttons, and gives her a sultry smile, “You look lovely on top of me like this.”

Heat spreads from her cheeks to her neck, and she ducks her head, embarrassed, “Oh! Um, thanks?”

Mouthing “go on” at her, he motions for her to finish unbuttoning his shirt. When she does, she runs her open palms in wide-arching circles: up his stomach, out over his sides, and back down to his hips, and back up the center. Shy and curious, she lets her fingertips brush his nipples, and he moans quietly to encourage her. Somewhat emboldened, she does it again, and when his chest twitches slightly, she does it more deliberately, gently circling the dusky peaks.

Glancing at him, she smiles, proud of herself to be earning such reactions. He holds out his tongue and points at it, glancing downwards. Her eyebrows raise—he wanted her to… lick him there? Her expression turns unsure, but he just looks down again, and then nods at her with a smile.

Well, since he really seemed to want her to…

Still looking unsure, she bends over him, lowering her mouth to his chest, hesitantly extending her tongue to lave over his nipple. He gives a sudden intake of breath, hand coming to rest on the back of her head, so she does it again.

“That’s it,” he whispers, so she flicks her tongue back and forth with less hesitation, “You can suck on it too, or bite gently…”

Which she does, taking his nipple between her teeth, still teasing it with her tongue, and then suckles it.

“Yes,” he lets out a more substantial moan, voice rich and low, and it sends a wave of excitement through Namie to hear it. Lustful dark eyes are watching her now, and she meets his gaze, eyes wide and curious. Biting his lip, he groans when her fingers seek out his other nipple, rubbing and pinching it too, “That’s perfect, Namie. Please, let me enjoy a little bit more… and then I’ll do it to you so you know how good it feels…”

“Okay,” she says, turning her attention to the other nipple, fingers going to the one she’d been teasing. Aoi’s head drops back and his fingertips press into her hair, sighing with satisfaction. Namie feels a rush of power to be making Aoi feel like this, and it only fuels her curiosity as she wonders how else she can make him react that way.

It seems almost too soon that he gently urges her to sit up. Sitting up too, he kisses her gently, reaching behind her to unzip her sundress before he lifts it over her head. Letting it drop to the floor, he wraps his arms behind her and rolls them over, so that she’s on her back with her legs to either side of him.

“Mmh, you look even better like this,” he grins, stroking his fingers up her sides, admiring the sight of her. Namie’s arms are curled bashfully to her chest, and again she is blushing. She’s not sure what she’s more embarrassed about: being exposed like this underneath him, or the simple bra and panty set that she’s wearing. It’s plain and white, and she is scolding herself for not thinking ahead and wearing something cuter. Simple or not, Aoi seems to approve of it, but he furrows his brows when he sees her hiding behind her arms. He shakes his head, gently tugging her arms away from her chest, laying them back on the bed, “No, no… Let me see you.”

Blushing harder, she mutters, “Sorry.”

“Beautiful,” he whispers, bending over her, one hand guiding her to tip her head back so he can kiss at her throat. These kisses are hungrier than the ones before, nipping at her flesh as he moves over her collarbones, tongue tracing the curve of her breast. He cups her through the bra, kneading her flesh as he continues to mouth his way along just above her bra. Just able to feel her nipples hardening through the padding, he pinches one through the bra, making Namie gasp and arch her back.

His fingers divert then, dipping under the bottom edge of her bra and pushing it upwards, exposing her to him. Unlike Namie, Aoi has no hesitation about this and takes her into his mouth like a man starved, suckling and teasing and nipping at her sensitive skin while she whimpers and writhes beneath him. It seems like each pass of his tongue or tug of his teeth sends a shot of pleasure straight to her core, and it’s not long before her hips are rolling against him, but this position doesn’t offer her any relief.

“Aoi,” she gasps, and he simply hums in response. She wasn’t looking for one, her mind was in disarray.

Taking his time, he trails lazy, wet kisses down her stomach. During the brief reprieve, she takes her bra off, discarding it. “Your heart is racing,” he says, dark eyes looking up at her from near her belly button, one hand sliding upwards to rest on her sternum, “Are you feeling good, Namie?”

“Y-yes,” she licks her lips.

“I’m going to make you feel even better,” he says, kissing at her hip bone. Its then that she seems to register where he’s headed, and she gasps, pushing up on her elbows.

“Aoi! What are you--? N-no,” she tries to pull him back up again, her face absolutely beet red. He doesn’t budge, only smiles at her.

“No?” his hand goes to her thigh, sliding upwards, and he brushes one finger up the seam of her, making her body jump, “Should I not touch you there?”

“Y-you can touch, yes, but… but…”

As she struggles for words, he kisses the hem of her panties, “But no kisses?”

She balks, “N-no!”

His finger starts to rub her through her panties again, and her breath starts to come irregularly. Inching lower, his lips still move against her skin through her panties, “Absolutely no kisses?” She shudders a little as his finger circles her clit and he presses harder, “I could kiss you there. Tease it with my tongue, just like your nipples, but so much better.” Her eyelids flutter, and he circles her clit again, slowly, teasingly, “Are you sure?”

“N-no, I’m… I’m…” her eyebrows knit together as she tries to focus her speech, hips twitching towards his fingers. His touch seems to set her body alight in a way her own couldn’t replicate.

“Do you really not want me to?” he asks, looking perfectly content to continue with the maddeningly-light touch until she loses her mind, “Or are you just shy about it?”

As she considers this, his eyes drift shut and he inhales a little deeper. The scent of her made his mouth water. He wanted so badly to taste her—she was dripping, he could feel her wetness through her panties.

“Y-you… actually _want to?_ ” she gasps out, incredulous.

Heavy-lidded eyes look up at her flushed face, and he nods, face still pressed to her pelvis. His voice is husky when he replies, “Very much so, yes.”

“I, um,” she swallows, and he can practically see her weighing her options. Her eyebrows furrow, but she nods, “Okay. Okay, you can.”

A smile curls at his lips, and he pushes up to softly kiss her. The action is more familiar, and he hopes it soothes her a little.

“Thank you, Namie,” he readjusts, dropping to his knees at the end of the bed and tugging her hips to the edge of it, “I promise you’ll enjoy this.”

He dips his head then, smelling her more directly and she squeaks, hiding her face. “Aoi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, sounding too pleased with himself to be sorry at all. He nuzzles his nose against her, and then kisses her through her panties with the same lazy, open-mouthed kisses he’d trailed down her body. All the while, his fingers dance around her thighs and the hem of her panties, awakening all of the sensitive nerves in the area. Namie’s already sure she’s burning up, not sure how much more she can handle.

Then, he gently pushes aside her panties, the final barrier between him and his prize, and she peeks through her fingers to see the spellbound look on his face. She’s not sure if that makes her less embarrassed or more! He looks up at her then, intense eyes catching hers, as he leans in and licks a stripe right up her center. Hips bucking, she gasps, and he smirks at her.

Backing away just long enough to tug off her panties, Aoi gently parts her legs further, and then meets her eyes again. He watches her closely as he softly brushes his fingers over her, almost-tickling, definitely teasing. One finger dips in further, collecting some of her wetness as he circles her entrance, and then sweeps upward to tease her clit. The direct stimulation makes her body jerk again, and she whimpers, and that seems to be all Aoi can take.

Spreading her with his fingers, giving a long, savoring lick, he groans with pleasure. Aoi had zero hesitation about enjoying a woman’s body, or letting them know just how much he did in the process. He tastes her here as thoroughly as he had her mouth, leisurely exploring her. He kisses and suckles, moaning as he laps at her, his thumbs trace the sensitive skin where her legs met her body. Namie is unable to keep still, hips rocking against him, and her mind is thoroughly muddled under the onslaught of pleasure.

“Aoi,” his name falls from her lips like a mantra, again and again she sighs and moans, “Aoi, Aoi, Aoi…”

One of his fingers strays to her entrance, while she’s so wrapped up in her pleasure, and he carefully presses it inside. Receiving no coherent reaction—and more importantly, no negative one—he gently moves it within her.

He can tell that she’s noticed when she gives a throaty moan, lifting her head to look at him. Steadily, he meets her gaze, and doesn’t falter in his efforts. His tongue moves against her expertly, his gentle movements work her open, and he moans despite himself to find her so slick and heated. He stirs in his jeans, eager at the thought of being inside her.

“That feels so good,” she gasps, and he waggles his eyebrows at her. Aoi curls his finger upwards within her, stroking at her walls, watching her expectantly. She pants, unsure what he’s waiting for, until she begins to feel it. A thrum of pleasure, deeper than the one she’d been enjoying until now; though it’s just beginning to build, Namie can already get a taste of its intensity. Dropping her head to the mattress again, she moans out, “Oh, God!”

Aoi’s eyes narrow as if he’s smiling, and he refocuses his effort, determined to make her climax. He suckles at her flesh, tongue teasing her clit relentlessly, finger moving more purposefully against her g-spot. Namie’s chest is heaving, she’s writhing, clutching at her blankets.

“God, Aoi, please,” she begs, not even sure what she’s begging for at this point. It’s like her entire body is wound tight, coiled and ready to release, and she’s dancing precariously on the edge of it. Aoi lets out a sound akin to a growl, nearly as eager for her release as she is.

A short while later his efforts are rewarded, as Namie finally tips over the edge, reaching her orgasm with a ragged cry. Pinning her rolling hips with his free arm, Aoi continues laving at her with his tongue, working her through her orgasm until she’s hyper-sensitive and gasping for breath.  Only then does he release her, chest heaving to catch his own breath, licking the remainder of her from his lips.

Shrugging out of his shirt, Aoi rests a knee on the edge of the bed and leans over Namie, wrapping her in his arms. Still trembling a bit, Namie grasps at his chest, pressing close, still whispering his name, “Aoi…”

“You alright?” he smiles warmly at her when she looks up at him.

She smiles back, clarity returning to her eyes, and she giggles breathlessly, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“And you didn’t want me to,” he teases, brushing her nose with his, mocking her voice, “Aoi! Nooo~!”

“Shush,” she swats his chest, but her limbs are still weak.

Grinning, he reaches a hand down to adjust himself—jeans were constricting at best, near-painful at worst. Namie seems to go shy again, giving a brief glance downwards.

“Do… do you want _me_ to…?” she can’t bring herself to say the words, but her fingers rest against her lips.

Before the nerves have a chance to get to her, he shakes his head, brushing her hair away from her face, “No, no. That’s alright. You don’t have to do that unless you want to.”

The relieved sigh she gives is the only sign he needs: no, she wasn’t ready for that. He kisses her instead, hand caressing her belly, slowly drifting downwards.

“I need relief of some kind, though,” he sighs against her lips, brushing her nose with his again. He meets her eyes, tone serious, “Namie, I need you to tell me what you’re comfortable with. If this is as far as you want me to go, tell me, so I can either go finish myself in the bathroom, or you can explore me with your hands.”

Namie nearly protests at the idea of him finishing himself, but he doesn’t give her the chance.

“Or, I can be your first,” His fingers dip lower, brushing her sensitive core, pressing softly at her entrance, but not pushing inside, making her shiver, “I’ll be satisfied with either option, so please don’t feel pressured… But I need you to tell me now, whichever it is.”

Gazing up at her former youth pastor, Namie has never felt so safe in her life. If ever there was a man she could trust, it was Aoi, who was so patient and understanding as he offered her guidance. Swallowing thickly, Namie caresses his chest, studying his face with those innocent, trusting eyes that made him weak. She had expected to be much more nervous about this decision, but it really comes easily to her.

“I want you,” she nods, hands drifting around his sides, pulling him toward her, “Please, Aoi. I trust you.”

And he hadn’t expected to hope so much for that answer, but he nearly collapses with the relief of it, breaking into a soft smile.

“I’m glad,” he kisses her then, deeply, passionately. She meets this kiss much more instinctively than any of the others, hands gently stroking his back, his sides, his hips. Surprising him with her boldness, one of her hands continues down to cup him through his jeans. He moans softly against her lips as she massages him experimentally, beginning to harden under her touch.

Aoi reluctantly pulls away from her, straightening up to unfasten his jeans. Namie sits up on the edge of the bed, watching as he strips out of them and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Her eyebrows rise to see him pull a condom from inside of it, and she giggles.

“You carry condoms?” she asks, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

Grinning toothily, Aoi shrugs, “Yeah, well, y’know…”

“Pervert,” she giggles again.

“But tell me you aren’t glad I have one,” he taunts, sauntering back to the bedside.

“I mean, I am…” Namie goes quiet as he approaches, his semi-erect penis now face-height. She glances nervously up at him.

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry. I said I wouldn’t ask that of you. You can touch, though, if you’re curious.”

She is.

She very much is.

Tentatively, she runs her fingers along the shaft, delicate touches that make Aoi’s eyelids flutter. Biting his lip, he watches as she curiously traces the shape of him, caressing him, wrapping her fingers around him to test his girth. The gentle attention stirs him further, and she marvels as he hardens in her hands. She looks up at him with wonder in her eyes, and then giggles a little as she looks down again.

“Try it like this,” he says, closing his fingers around hers so she grips him tighter, and guiding her through a few strokes. Finally receiving some proper stimulation, he groans. When she seems to be getting it, he lets go, and she maintains that firm grip without him reminding her, making him groan again. Aoi was trying to be patient, he really was, but he was only a man! Licking his lips, he says, “And your other hand, here…”

Following his instruction, she cups his balls, gently massaging and tugging. It seemed to distract her from stroking him, and her rhythm falters, and Aoi decides that it’s enough exploration for now. Namie looks concerned when he stops her, but he quickly hushes her.

“You were doing great, but I can’t wait any more,” he kisses her, “Scoot up the bed and get comfortable, okay?”

He follows her up, gently spreading her legs and moving between them. Tearing open the little foil packet, he rolls on the condom before turning his attention back to her, noticing how she starts to look nervous again.

“It’s okay, I won’t do anything until you’re ready,” he coos, bending over her to kiss her softly, fingers seeking out her clit, still sensitive from earlier. Her hips twitch at the touch, and she gasps against his lips. Aoi continues to work her over with his fingers, the more familiar situation helping her relax underneath him. He readjusts a little, and then replaces his fingers with the tip of his cock. Namie gasps again, grasping at his shoulder.

“Aoi…?”

“Not until you’re ready,” he shakes his head, teasing them both by rubbing himself between her lips and against her clit. Namie holds eye contact, eyes nervous but determined. He presses himself a little more against her entrance, testing her, but he sees a spike of nerves in her eyes, so he returns to rubbing himself through her wetness. Wetness, he noticed, that was beginning to increase, “Feel good?”

Swallowing thickly, Namie nods.

“Ready to try?” he asks, kissing her gently, “I need you to tell me.”

She locks eyes with him again, her expression showing complete and total faith in him, “Yes, I’m ready.”

Permission granted, he moves his hips forward and, already slick from the foreplay, begins to press inside. Namie’s face contorts a little, but she doesn’t stop him, so he continues to push forward as her body stretches to accommodate him. The heat of her is intense, and he moans as it starts to envelope him.

“A-ah,” she gasps, writhing a little.

Aoi stills his hips, “Hurting?”

“N-no, I don’t think so,” her fingers tense and relax against his shoulder, “It’s not exactly… comfortable.”

“Try to relax,” he kisses her forehead, stroking her side soothingly, “Your body’s gotta get used to it, being stretched open like this. The more you relax, the less likely it is to hurt.”

Aoi reclaims her lips, caressing her breast, her side, her thigh, with gentle touches. He dips his head to kiss her neck as his fingers return to her clit, stroking her. Beneath his lips, he can feel her pulse racing, and he attempts to move again.

“Aoi! O- _oh_ ,” her voice totally changes, and he smiles in triumph.

“Yes?” he asks, slowly rolling his hips, moving inside her with shallow little thrusts.

“Oh,” she gasps again, “That… th-that’s um, that’s really nice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Oh God,_ yeah.”

“Good,” he nips at her neck, and then pulls back so he can see her face. Her arms come to wrap around his neck and shoulders, one of her hands playing with his hair. Thrusting a little deeper, she mewls, nails scratching against his scalp, so he does it again.

And again.

And again.

Soon, he’s able to bury himself completely inside her, that slick heat driving him mad.

“Namie,” he gasps, his head dropping to her shoulder, and he nuzzles at her neck, “You feel incredible, Namie.”

“You—oh my god—you too,” she moans, clutching him tightly. She feels alive with him inside her, the stretch she hadn’t been sure about was now making her toes curl, and the solid weight of Aoi on top of her was almost dizzying. Namie had never felt anything like this, to feel so full and yet so achingly empty at the same time. He was on her, he was in her, and she still felt like she needed more! As his hips continue moving against hers, she gives a frustrated cry, “Aoi! Please!”

He knows what she’s aching for.

Moving his hips faster, the slap of skin on skin fills her childhood bedroom, interrupted only by her desperate pleas and his pleasured groans. Straightening up for better leverage, he clutches at her chest with one hand, her hip with the other. She’s the image of debauchery below him, hair spread on the pillow, lips parted and inviting, skin rosy with pleasure, one breast bouncing as he moves between her legs. Namie claws at the bed, struggling for purchase on the blankets. Aoi is all masculine beauty above her, muscles tense with effort as he works for both of their pleasure. His hair sticks to his forehead, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face. She doesn’t think he’s ever looked so good.

The pleasure was building inside her again, the deep, intense one that had taken her by surprise earlier.  It makes her chest tight, her breath falter, her hands clutch tighter at the bed. All the while, he fucks her at the same intense pace, each forward push of his hips filling her completely and sending a jolt of pleasure through her veins, edging her closer and closer.

Namie gives an urgent cry of his name, “Aoi!”

Giving her a knowing look, Aoi shifts his weight more to one arm, and yet again finds her clit with the other, and rubs insistently. It’s all she needs.

This time, the orgasm swells within her instead of crashing over her; fills her so completely with pleasure that she’s sure she might burst, and keeps her there, pulsing throughout her body and rendering her incapable of anything but incoherent moans. As the pleasure begins to ebb, Namie slowly becomes aware of Aoi’s hips grinding against her, and the way his body tenses and releases as he comes. Her ears are still ringing as he pulses within her, and she gasps for breath while Aoi finally stills.

It takes a few moments for him to come back down, but he finally looks down at her, seeming a bit glassy-eyed and dazed. Namie blinks at him a few times, and then smiles. He smiles in return, wrapping her in his arms, and they kiss languidly.

“Aoi,”she sighs against his lips, sated and sleepy.

He pulls out of her then, slipping out with a slick noise, and he ties off the condom, burying it at the bottom of her trash can. Crawling back onto the bed beside her, he caresses her hip.

“I’ll hold you until you go to sleep, but I’ll have to go soon,” he tells her, and Namie tries not to let the disappointment eat at her, “In case your parents come home early.”

Parents.

The word sends a shock of fear through her system, and she startles out of his arms.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims, “My parents!”

Aoi sits up with alarm.

“I just had sex in my parents’ house,” she tugs at her hair, looking fearfully at Aoi, “I’m a horrible child! Oh no, what if they notice something? What if they find out?!”

“Namie, Namie, Namie,” Aoi laughs, and pulls her back over to him, hugging her, “We didn’t make a mess, I didn’t give you any hickeys, there’s no neon sign popping up above your head telling everyone I JUST HAD SEX! Just take a shower, wash your blanket if it makes you uncomfortable, and be cool. No one will notice anything unless you’re acting weird about it.”

“But Aoi!” she whines at him, hiding her face with her hands, “How can you be so casual?”

“Because we didn’t do anything wrong,” he pulls her hands away, kissing her. It seems to disrupt her train of thought, and she relaxes a little bit. When he pulls away, he cups her cheeks and presses their foreheads together, “Sex is natural, Namie. It’s normal, and healthy, and it feels good. Like I’ve been saying, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Yes, of course I did,” she pouts.

“So don’t ruin it by worrying when you don’t need to,” he squishes her cheeks a bit playfully, “Let the good feeling stay with you for a while, get yourself cleaned up, and go on about your afternoon, okay? You will be fine. I mean, maybe a little sore for a day or two… but otherwise, completely fine!”

Still pouting, she says, “Promise?”

“Promise,” his expression softens, and Namie thinks she could melt into those warm brown eyes.

Her hands wrap around his forearms, thumbs caressing idly, and she nods, “I believe you.”

“Good,” he smiles, and lets go of her, “Now get dressed in something comfy and let me hold you for a bit, yeah?”

Namie finally smiles back at him, his positive attitude winning her over, “Yeah.”


	6. Week 5 - Before Mass

After her experience with Aoi, Namie experienced a period of extreme paranoia that lasted for several days. She was jumpy at home; every time her parents called her name, her heart would bottom out in her stomach and she was certain they knew, and that they were going to punish her. The soreness that Aoi told her to expect certainly didn’t help, acting as a frequent reminder of their activities. Certain movements would ache, and of course, she’d be embarrassed all over again, desperately hoping that her blush wouldn’t give _something_ away about the memories and fantasies budding in her mind.  But then a day passed… Then two. Three, and still no repercussions. Life continued as normal, just as Aoi had said, and finally realizing that they’d gotten away with it, Namie let herself breathe again.

Come Sunday of week five, Namie was back to normal. She was cheerful in the morning, and blushed brightly when Aoi leaned over to kiss her cheek as she settled in the passenger seat of his car. While she managed to keep herself in check for the rest of the ride, her mind did start to wander… The youth pastor was just so handsome, his presence so charming, and God forbid she let her eyes wander to his lips, or his hands, or to anywhere his dress shirt or slacks seemed to fit him so well! No doubt, she’d ogled him before, but that was before she was so intimately acquainted with the body she was admiring.

When they arrived at church, Namie quickly scurries off to her piano, lest she spend too much time fantasizing and get herself into trouble. She has just enough time to set up the sheet music and smooth out her skirt when the door to the nave opens, revealing Uruha, carrying only one small box this time. Feeling much more comfortable in his presence without the looming air of uncertainty, she turns on the piano bench and waits for him to cross the room.

“Good morning, deacon,” she smiles.

The smile he gives in return is small, almost bashful, “Miss Namie, good morning!”

“No help required today, I see.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he looks at the box and shrugs, quoting playfully, “Well, y’know, ’For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light’…”

Namie gives a little snort of a laugh at the out-of-context quotation, hiding her smile behind her hand. This was her first real glimpse of Uruha’s sense of humor, and his personality outside of his role in the parish. He hovers around for a bit, like he’s not sure what to say, but he doesn’t want to move away just yet.

Eventually, with the corner of his lips quirked, he holds out the keyring to her, “Walk me over anyway?”

Cheeks tinging pink, Namie hesitates only a moment before she takes the keys and stands from the bench. She plays with her hair as they move towards the storage room, endeared to the deacon, though he doesn’t talk much. He looks particularly handsome today, for some reason. Maybe it was the light dusting of makeup that he sometimes wore… A whole group of makeup-wearing clergymen had shocked the town when they first arrived, but in time they had come to terms with the eccentricity. Namie, for one, had always admired the intensity it brought to their eyes… Noticing Uruha’s gaze lingering on her, Namie ducks her head shyly, unlocking the storage room. Yes, surely it was the makeup. It had _nothing_ to do with her newfound understanding of the things he desired from her, _of course not._

And it _most certainly_ had _nothing_ to do with the fact that she’d been tormented with lewd memories for a week, with no real outlet for the frustration!

He sets the box on a shelf as the door latches shut behind them.

Namie hesitates.

“Um, Uruha?”

He looks up with a little hum, “Hm?”

Stepping closer, Namie lowers her voice, as if someone might be eavesdropping on them. It’s not plausible, but she’s nervous. He looks surprised and confused and curious all at once, stepping closer too, and bending to better hear her whispers, “I um, well… I know this is like, opposite of what I said last week, but some things have changed, and I’ve had some time to think things over. You’re, um, you’re very sweet, and even if we aren’t that close yet, I really do like you, you know?”

Her nervous ramble trails off, as she’s lost confidence. Uruha raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to continue. Namie licks her suddenly dry lips, and his eyes dart downwards, and back up to meet hers. “Miss Namie?”

“I… I had a talk with someone. They said that, if we both feel it’s right, then we should just go for it,” Namie nods, determinedly, but she still looks nervous. She _is_ still nervous, still so new to this sort of thing, unsure about the particulars of it. Searching his face, trusting him to be more experienced and possibly take over for her, she continues, “And… well, I really liked kissing you. I want… I want to do more of that, and well, I mean, _more_ in general, Uruha. With you… ”

There’s a moment or two where he just looks at her, considering. Namie’s heart is in her throat, her breath shallow as she waits in the silence. And then slowly, very slowly, he takes ahold of her hips, walking her backwards step by step until her back hits the door. All the while, he maintains that eye contact, his gaze heated, trapping her, though he makes no other expression. His stillness is unnerving, making her skin prickle with uncertainty.

He raises one hand, brushing her hair away from her face, fingertips lingering just behind her ear.

And then, he snaps—pressing himself bodily up against her as he claims her lips with his own, fingers tightening in her hair and on her hip, the sudden assault making her gasp. Gone is the languid, searching kiss of two weeks ago. In its place is a heated, almost frenzied kiss. He nips at her lips, the sharp sting of teeth making her shudder, the heat of his mouth and press of his body making her swoon. It was desperate, it was hurried. Uruha’s fingers slid up under her shirt, pawing at her chest—then, no—decide they want to curl around her ass instead, groping her there just as roughly.

He pulls away from her mouth with a hissed intake of breath.

Dazedly, still recovering from the onslaught, Namie opens her eyes, “U-uruha…”

“Must you be so cruel?” he asks, dropping his hand from her hair, running it instead up her thigh, under her skirt. She looks puzzled, but he just forces another urgent kiss upon her, “Mass will start before you know it. I don’t like quickies, but you come in here and say those things to me… Naughty girl, miss Namie. To tell me how you want me when I don’t have time to take you! I want to go slowly with you. I want to savor you like a fine wine, taste every nuance, drink until I’ve had my fill and I’m left dizzy and dazed. We’ll figure that out later, but for now, I want a sip to hold me over.”

Leaving no time for questions or protests, Uruha claims her lips again, kissing her just as deeply as he had before. He massages between her legs, awakening the nerves, stroking the seam of her, pressing a little more firmly to find the bundle of nerves that makes her hips twitch toward his hand. His fingers dip past the hem of her panties, wasting no time in seeking out her clit and working it until she’s trembling between him and the door. Pulling back, he watches her reactions intently. When he moves lower to press a finger inside of her, she moans, and suddenly his other hand is clamped over her mouth.

“Hush, Namie. Don’t forget, someone could hear,” he keeps his hand in place, and she pants through her nose, eyes wide as she meets his gaze.

One finger soon becomes two, pumping in and out of her as she grows slicker and slicker around him. His eyes narrow, jaw slackening with arousal, but still he doesn’t look away. Curling his fingers towards her front, Uruha begins to work the same spot that Aoi had, the one that caused a slow but steady wave of pleasure within her—the one that set her blood to boiling, that robbed her brain of coherent thought. Namie’s hips rock against his hand, the only movement she can manage with him so firmly pinning her in place.

“I’m going to make you cum, Namie, with just this door between you and the congregation as they gather. I’m going to make you cum, and then you’re going to go take a seat at your piano and try not to squirm as you’re left sensitive and yearning. You’re so hot, Namie, and so wet,” he presses his forehead to hers, whispering heatedly, thumb rubbing at her clit while his fingers continue to work inside her, “Fuck, Namie! It’ll be a wonder if you don’t stain the bench after this.”

The thought makes her cheeks burn with humiliation, but the pumping of his fingers had her eyes rolling back. This was so different from the slow, steady build with Aoi—Uruha’s fingers pumped in and out of her mercilessly, like he was trying to pull the orgasm from her, and it was working.

Dear God, was it working!

She makes quiet little sounds behind the gag of his palm, breath frantic, hips still rolling as the pleasure swells within her. There’s obscene sounds where he’s touching her, slick, lewd noises that she can barely hear over the blood in her ears. Her back arches, pressing her against him, and her toes curl in her ballet flats, hands grasping desperately at his alb and stole.

“That’s it, good girl,” he coos, redoubling his efforts, arm working as furiously as it ever had.

Not long after, her orgasm bursts through her, and she writhes and trembles against him. She manages to stifle most of her noises, and any that do escape are muffled by his hand. He is watching her with lust so thick it’s almost palpable, looking almost proud as she starts to come back down. Removing his hand, Uruha kisses her deeply one last time, and before she realizes what’s happening, his other hand is at his mouth, and he presses his fingers past his lips. She mewls in embarrassment, but is unable to look away as he savors the taste of her.

“Delicious,” he purrs, brushing his nose against hers, nipping at her bottom lip, “That should tide me over…”

Namie is speechless. When she stops trembling, Uruha slowly backs away. Taking a spare rag that had been forgotten in the storage room, he wipes his hands clean, and makes his way back to her. She struggles to calm her breathing as he smooths her hair, and wipes away the wetness around her mouth that was evidence of his kiss. He fixes her blouse and smooths her skirt while she looks on in a daze.

“There, good as new,” he smiles, nose crinkling slightly, and gives her a soft peck on the lips, “Now, take a deep breath and get back out there.”

Get back out there.

Meaning _church_.

Desperately needing that deep breath to calm the sudden rush of anxiety, she takes several.

“You’re sure I look okay?” She tries to examine herself, “They aren’t gonna know, are they?”

“Wipe that stunned look off your face, and they won’t,” he teases, “You look perfectly in order, Namie. No one will suspect a thing. Mass will be starting soon, don’t you need to start playing?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she nods, taking a long, lingering glance at Uruha. Had this all really just happened? Another deep breath, and she turns to open the door, putting up the most relaxed façade she can manage. Her knees are still a little weak as she makes her way across the room to her piano, totally unhelped by her nerves.

Almost numbly, she smiles and nods to Father Ruki, gives a quick wave to her parents, quietly and politely greets others as she passes. Gratefully soon, she reaches the instrument, and settles on the bench. Her eyes widen with alarm at the wet feeling of her panties when she sits—damn if Uruha wasn’t right! She would have to be careful when she stood, in case she left a mark!

He was also right about her yearning. He’d just given her an intense orgasm, and yet, she felt somewhat hollow and unsatisfied. It was like she’d been cheated, somehow, of something better. The stretch of him inside her, the way his body would move against her. No, this orgasm certainly didn’t compare. Her eyes flutter and her hips shift as she remembers the way Aoi had felt inside of her. As she imagines Uruha filling her like that.

Startled by her own immoral thoughts—having them in the Lord’s house, even!—she clears her throat and arranges her hands on the keys. Training her eyes on Father Ruki, she waits for her cues instead.

 


End file.
